The Sickly Double Doesn't Want to Be Spoiled - Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lu Cong’s phone had been quiet for several days.

After the jewelry was delivered, Meng Yuan never contacted him again. The blank profile picture sat in his contact list, behaving incredibly well.

Lu Cong felt an unprecedented sense of peace.

His life had finally returned to its tracks, back to a familiar and controllable scope. His political marriage partner was obedient and sensible, never asking about anything except buying things.

This was exactly what Lu Cong wanted.

In a great mood, he had Song Zhen pick out a few plots of land for Meng Yuan.

Thinking that Meng Yuan had just turned twenty an age for playing Lu Cong figured it was good for a boy to have a few pieces of land to “play house” with. He could build a racing track or build himself a little castle to stay in for a couple of days; Lu Cong wouldn’t interfere.

…

Meng Yuan was a bit troubled.

He was currently at an auction. Sitting next to him was his mother in a legal sense, but he didn’t know this person at all.

The view from the second-floor VIP room was excellent. Meng Yuan watched the people in the hall below raising their paddles to bid, then looked at the numbers jumping rapidly on the screen.

He was reaching a point where he didn’t recognize money anymore.

Jiang Minhua leisurely ate fruit. With just a look, the staff understood and operated the system to bid for her. She had her eye on a painting. The style was so abstract that it far exceeded the range of Meng Yuan’s meager artistic appreciation.

He could only silently eat cake.

“I heard Lu Cong is very good to you.” Jiang Minhua smiled and glanced at him.

Meng Yuan coughed twice and put down his spoon: “He’s alright…”

A couple of days ago, he couldn’t resist the temptation and went out to sea for a bit. Upon returning, he caught a cold. Although it wasn’t serious, his cough just wouldn’t go away.

“You don’t need to have any reservations in front of me,” Jiang Minhua said. “If he likes you, it only benefits the Meng family.”

Meng Yuan didn’t speak, just pursed his lips and smiled. He didn’t know Jiang Minhua, but fortunately, the original owner wasn’t close to her either. She was Meng Derun’s first wife and had divorced shortly after giving birth to the eldest son, before the original owner was even born. They had remarried last year, but the original owner had already moved out of the Meng ancestral home to live alone, so they had barely met.

The chances of him slipping up in front of her were very small.

“What do you plan to do with those plots of land?” Jiang Minhua asked conversationally.

Land…

Meng Yuan thought about the deeds that had appeared under his name and truly didn’t know what to do with them.

“The Boss says you can build an amusement park, a racing track, or a castle. You can do whatever makes you happy.”

Recalling Song Zhen’s meticulous delivery of the message, Meng Yuan was in a bind. It wasn’t that he couldn’t build those things, but according to the novel’s timeline, he only had two years to live. Even if he started now and worked overtime to finish before he died, he wouldn’t get to play for long. Would it serve any purpose other than wasting manpower and money?

Meng Yuan felt like a “femme fatale” concubine ruining the country.

Should he sell them for cash? But he already had more money than he could spend.

The person in front of her suddenly froze, falling into a daze, the cake held at his lips for a long time without him taking a bite.

Jiang Minhua: “?”

She suddenly thought of something: “You don’t think I’m eyeing those two plots of yours, do you?”

Meng Yuan snapped out of it: “No…”

“Good.” Jiang Minhua smoothed her hair as if offended, glanced at him, and said casually: “Don’t treat them as resources. Don’t think about ‘activating’ them. Toys are things meant to be enjoyed in your hands. Do you understand?”

Meng Yuan was stunned. He felt these words meant the same thing as what Song Zhen had relayed, but he didn’t quite understand: “Why?”

Jiang Minhua’s slender eyebrows arched, and a flash of surprise crossed her eyes, seemingly puzzled that Meng Yuan didn’t understand this.

“Just remember that ‘playing’ is okay, but ‘using’ is not,” she said, not wishing to explain further. “You are a child of the Meng family, and now you are the bridge between the Lu and Meng families. If you are doing well, the Meng family won’t necessarily benefit, but if you aren’t doing well, the Meng family will definitely suffer. So at least for now, my advice to you is worth believing.”

Having finished, she ignored Meng Yuan’s bewildered expression, took the closing document handed to her, and signed her name with a fluid motion.

“Just send it to his house,” she pointed at Meng Yuan.

“Me?” Meng Yuan was startled.

So this painting was bought for him? Why? He couldn’t even appreciate it.

“Who else?” Jiang Minhua smiled. “Next week is Professor Zou’s 70th birthday. He likes this artist. Take this painting as a birthday gift; he will be happy.”

So it wasn’t for him. Meng Yuan breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know Professor Zou, right?” Jiang Minhua suddenly asked. “Professor of International Law at Capital University, Lu Cong’s mentor, and the witness for your future wedding.”

Meng Yuan obviously didn’t know, but he figured the original owner should have, so he sensibly kept his mouth shut.

Jiang Minhua only assumed he was ill and slow to react: “This child, so unaware…” She stood up, elegantly smoothing her skirt: “Let’s go, let’s have dinner.”

…

Lu Cong rarely finished work early today.

The restaurant was recommended by a friend, and it was also Lu Cong’s first time there. The waiter led him in with extremely light footsteps. The restaurant served very few guests daily, and the atmosphere was quiet and soothing.

At that moment, only one table of guests was dining. Naturally, Lu Cong noticed them. He noticed Jiang Minhua, who was idly playing with her ring, and Meng Yuan sitting opposite her, clutching a menu and looking distressed over what to order.

Lu Cong’s eyes darkened. His anticipation for the new dishes instantly turned into the weariness of being set up.

“President Lu?”

Jiang Minhua also saw him and smiled joyfully. She was in her fifties, but her well-maintained face had almost no wrinkles, leaving only a touch of vivid, mature charm.

Hearing this, Meng Yuan also looked up, his eyes widening slightly: “Mr. Lu?”

The darkness in Lu Cong’s eyes flashed by, and his face was re-armed with a refined smile: “What a coincidence.”

He approached, watching Meng Yuan’s large eyes follow his movement, eventually looking up at him. He stood behind Meng Yuan, leaning down to hold the back of the chair, his tone intimate: “Why didn’t you tell me you were having dinner with Auntie today? I should have prepared for you in advance.”

Meng Yuan’s mind was a mess.

Why would Lu Cong appear here? Didn’t the novel say that Lu Cong was the kind of cold husband who only knew how to send money and never bothered with his wife? Hadn’t he never shown his face once? Why did his face suddenly appear?

Counting the hospital, this was the second time Meng Yuan had seen him. He was starting to memorize this face! This wasn’t right, was it?

“I…” Meng Yuan dazed out, blabbing the truth: “I didn’t know we were eating here either, so I probably couldn’t have let you prepare in advance…”

Lu Cong’s brow twitched slightly, a look crossing his eyes that Meng Yuan couldn’t decipher.

“Ahem!” Jiang Minhua put down her water glass.

Is this child truly stupid or just faking?

She quickly snatched the conversation back: “How could we trouble President Lu? I just thought this child’s body is weak and the tonic soup at this shop would suit him, so I brought him here. Who would have thought we’d run into you by such a coincidence.”

“A coincidence indeed,” Lu Cong understood. “Then… if you don’t mind, shall we join?”

Jiang Minhua’s eyes brightened: “Of course.”

Lu Cong sat down beside Meng Yuan. Meng Yuan still looked dazed. Lu Cong naturally reached out to remove a strand of hair stuck near the corner of Meng Yuan’s eye: “Are you tired from being out all day?”

The gentle action made the muscle on Meng Yuan’s arm jump in shock. But Meng Yuan expected that they needed to act affectionately in public. He lowered his eyes and whispered: “I’m okay.”

The menu came into view, and Meng Yuan immediately stuffed it into Lu Cong’s hands, tossing the “hot potato” away: “You order.”

In Lu Cong’s eyes, this appearance inexplicably carried a hint of acting spoiled, as if Meng Yuan were a good baby who only knew how to depend on him with his whole heart. Not expecting Meng Yuan to be so “on the ball,” Lu Cong felt much better.

He put a loose arm around Meng Yuan’s shoulder, took charge of ordering a few dishes for him, and reminded the waiter to change Meng Yuan’s ice juice to hot milk.

Jiang Minhua observed silently from the side.

The two looked quite close. Lu Cong rarely spoke with such a gentle and patient tone; someone with less mental fortitude would indeed be easily sucked in. But looking at Meng Yuan… Jiang Minhua couldn’t tell for the moment. He was too obedient; he listened quietly to whatever those around him said, almost never contradicting.

Likely due to his poor health, he would occasionally zone out. Lu Cong didn’t get angry either; he would gently touch his face to bring him back, and Meng Yuan would apologize with a blushing face, whispering to ask what the other had just said. Lu Cong would patiently repeat it.

Jiang Minhua curled her lips imperceptibly. She had married Meng Derun twice, but even when they were young and dating, that “dead ghost” had never coaxed her with such a tone.

It was enough; as long as things looked okay on the surface. As for Lu Cong’s private attitude toward Meng Yuan, Jiang Minhua didn’t care at all—Meng Yuan wasn’t her son.

She took a sip of juice. “Next week is Professor Zou’s birthday banquet. I just took Xiao Yuan to pick out a painting as a gift. It would be best if the old gentleman likes it.”

“You’re too kind,” Lu Cong smiled. “I’ve already prepared Xiao Yuan’s gift for him. Why let you go at the expense?”

“Your intention is yours, but our intention must be represented too,” Jiang Minhua said smoothly. “I have to accompany Ruiming to Country M next week and regretfully won’t be able to congratulate him in person. But we can’t feel at ease without personally overseeing that project.”

Lu Cong knew what she meant. In the last two years, Meng Derun’s health hadn’t been as robust as before, and those children of the Meng family were getting restless. The project in Country M was somewhat related to Lu Cong’s side, and Jiang Minhua and Meng Ruiming had put in some effort to snatch it.

“I’m relieved to see you taking such a personal hand in things,” Lu Cong feigned concern. “But you must also watch your health.”

Jiang Minhua smiled and raised her glass: “It’s all as it should be.”

She didn’t continue about the project, pulling the topic back to Meng Yuan, chatting about trivial family matters. It was just enough. Anyway, Lu Cong completely understood her intent; the purpose of this “coincidental” dinner she designed had been achieved.

…

Inside the car, it was dead silent.

After the dinner, Lu Cong took Meng Yuan directly into the car. At the moment, he was closing his eyes to rest, his fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically.

Meng Yuan glanced at his expression and asked softly: “Are you drunk?”

Lu Cong’s hand stopped, and he immediately opened his eyes.

Meng Yuan saw that his eyes were perfectly clear. He clicked his tongue slightly, cursing himself for being meddlesome. This guy was a CEO in a novel; how could he get drunk on just a few glasses of wine?

“Sorry, pretend I didn’t ask.” He turned his head, shifted a bit to the side, and continued to stare silently out the window.

However, Lu Cong’s gaze remained on him. Meng Yuan could clearly feel that burning gaze following him like a shadow, staring at him candidly and without obstruction.

His throat tightened as he swallowed nervously. Meng Yuan couldn’t take it anymore:

“Why do you keep looking at me?” “When did you start the habit of using honorifics?”

They spoke at the same time.

Meng Yuan was startled. Lu Cong’s eyes held a naked scrutiny; this gaze was too clear and sharp, as if it could pierce through him.

Meng Yuan’s heart began to beat wildly uncontrollably this was a very dangerous signal.

What did he mean? Did the original owner never use honorifics?

But Meng Yuan couldn’t help it. He had never been a smooth person, and many years of working hadn’t made his brain even a little bit brighter. After being afraid of suffering losses, facing everyone with a humble posture had become almost instinctive. Especially toward someone like Lu Cong.

Meng Yuan simply couldn’t speak with his head held high and a temper; he couldn’t even manage to not be afraid of him. So, he had slipped up after all.

Meng Yuan hung his head, feeling a bit defeated and discouraged. He didn’t look like a young master at all; even occupying this skin, his cowardice and timidity were seen through at a glance.

“Meng Yuan.”

Lu Cong called him, his tone slightly heavier.

Meng Yuan buried his head even lower, arming himself like a quail. Lu Cong reached out to pull his arm, and he shrank back as if burned, only to fall into the territory the other had already cordoned off.

“Look at me.”

Lu Cong gripped his chin and lifted his face, seeing the terror on the youth’s face that hadn’t had time to dissipate.

Meng Yuan didn’t dare look at him at all, his eyes glancing toward a single spot, his eyelashes trembling. Lu Cong’s expression changed strangely: “You’re afraid of me?”

Meng Yuan’s breathing was a bit heavy, and the thumping heartbeat in his ears made him feel very uncomfortable. He frowned, feeling his vision blur in a sudden onset of dizziness. His nose felt hot, and he smelled a heavy scent of blood.

Meng Yuan began to have a nosebleed.

The fresh blood dripped unexpectedly onto Lu Cong’s hand. Lu Cong’s mind went blank for a second. He pulled his hand back abruptly, and Meng Yuan collapsed into his arms like he had no bones. He had to grab Meng Yuan’s shoulders to keep him from falling to the floor and getting hurt more seriously.

Meng Yuan felt he had probably fainted for a dozen seconds. When his vision returned, his forehead was resting against Lu Cong’s shoulder. Lu Cong was using a tissue to block his nose and mouth, his other hand pressing on the back of his head.

He saw large, thick patches of bright red blooming on the snowy white tissue.

“To the hospital,” Lu Cong instructed the driver.

“No need…” Meng Yuan lightly raised his hand and took the tissue.

He was panting heavily as he fumbled a pill bottle from his pocket, poured out two pills, and swallowed them with some water.

“It happens occasionally,” he said weakly. “Even if I go to the hospital, the doctor will just tell me to take this medicine.”

They were almost home, and the lights of the villa outside the car window began to flicker. After the car came to a stop, Meng Yuan pushed the door open and got out without a word. His movements were both fast and slow; he wanted to escape quickly, yet he had to slow down because of his floating footsteps.

Lu Cong just sat in the car, watching his back like a ghost, drifting away and disappearing behind the massive metal gates.

The driver turned the car around and drove in the opposite direction. Lu Cong was dazed, his peripheral vision catching something at his side the small pill bottle had been left behind in the corner where Meng Yuan had been.

He instinctively picked up his phone and sent a message:

[You didn’t take your medicine.]

Meng Yuan has enabled friend verification. You are not yet his/her friend. Please send a verification request first; you can chat only after the other party accepts.

Lu Cong: “…?”